


Dorian's Catastrophe

by acidtonguejenny



Series: Dragon Age Kinkmeme Fills [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 05:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3598191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidtonguejenny/pseuds/acidtonguejenny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is turned into a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorian's Catastrophe

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13696.html?thread=52627072#t52627072) at the DA Kinkmeme.

A tower of reference books toppled. Vivienne looked up with a scowl, and met the eyes of a rather indignant tomcat, half-trapped beneath a manual of Fereldan herbs. It appeared unharmed, once one discounted its great feline dignity. 

“You deserve no less, you awful creature.” Vivienne told it, and sneezed all over her parchment. 

~ 

“Has anyone seen Dorian?” said the Inquisitor to the room. He received only a shrug from Varric, and a glance from a courtier.

“Have you seen Dorian today?” He asked Solas. “He hasn’t been in the library for hours.”

Solas looked up from a heavy book. His left hand was engaged, busily scratching a dark-furred cat under the chin. “I regret I have not, Inquisitor.” He said.

The Inquisitor huffed, impatient, and with growing worry. “Tell me if he turns up, would you?”

“Of course.”

The cat made a noise, and hopped off the desk to follow the Inquisitor as he exited the tower, bound for Cullen’s office. 

~ 

The Inquisitor ducked into the Tavern to question its inhabitants, knowing that the mage and Iron Bull had a repartee, and held open the door for Solas’s cat. He was there for scarcely five minutes when he heard the twang of Sera’s bow. 

And then: “Here kitty kitty! There you are!”

Soon followed by the sound of numerous tankards knocked off tables, the protests of patrons, and the pounding of Sera’s boots as she leapt from table to table. The cat darted under the rail and leapt to the ground level, catching itself on the Inquisitor’s jacket, claws sinking into skin and fabric alike.

The Inquisitor reached for it instinctively and hissed with pain, uncertain if he wanted to toss the animal away from him or shield it, meanwhile the claws dug deeper as Sera barreled down the stairs. 

“Inky! Hold him tight!”

“Ouch! Sera, stop!” The Inquisitor yelled over Bull’s laughter. 

She did, with a pout, though she kept her arrow notched. Above, people complained loudly as they set about righting tables and drinks. 

“Not protecting it, are you?” Sera said, wrinkling her nose. The cat hissed at her, ears flat. 

“Don’t like cats?” The Inquisitor said, still struggling to disengage the animal, which was most unwilling to be pried from his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“Them’s filthy creatures they are,” Sera said, folding her arms with a scold. “Always poking in the trash, stealing your food. Get scratched and it hurts for days. Only good for tossing into lordlings’ windows.”

Iron Bull chuckled to the side. “I think they’re cute. Not a lot of cats back home.” He said, extending a hand to pet the cat’s back. The cat seemed to regard the huge limb warily, before submitting to the touch. “Most get eaten. Good enough meat.”

The cat recoiled against the Inquisitor’s neck and slapped at Iron Bull’s hand, claws brandished. 

“Ow!”

“See?” Sera pointed with her bow, triumphant.

The Inquisitor shook his head, laying a cautious, calming hand on the cat’s back. He sighed. “I just wanted to know if anyone had seen Dorian.” He said.

“Nope.

“Not since yesterday.”

He sighed again.

“Dorian.” 

Four pairs of eyes looked up. Cole leaned worryingly far over the third floor railing, his head cocked.

“Yes, Dorian. Have you seen him, Cole?” called the Inquisitor.

“Yes.” Said Cole plainly. 

“Where?” the Inquisitor coaxed.

“Here.”

“Here?” Sera looked about them. Bull cocked a brow, mouthing the word ‘demon’. 

“There.” Cole pointed, with budding frustration, to the Inquisitor’s shoulder. To the cat. 

“The cat?” Bull said, doubtfully. He grimaced at the three neat, surprisingly deep cuts on one large finger, and stuck the digit in his mouth. 

“World so big crazy woman wants to kill me safety warmth rightness will protect from big oaf wants to eat me.” Cole said sagely, nodding.

Krem, a few feet away, fell backwards into his chair laughing, holding his chest. 

“Yep, cat.” Sera decided. 

“He’s named the damn cat,” Bull said around his finger. “Fool boy.”

The Inquisitor felt the cat begin to relax, and raised his arms so it might step down into them. “Thank you, Cole.”

~ 

The Inquisitor continued his rounds, but no one had seen Dorian. The cat rode on his shoulder, and was unwilling to be handled when Blackwall and Josephine made to stroke it. 

“Let me have him, cats like me.” Leliana said.

“Not this cat, apparently.” The Inquisitor said with a chuckle as Leliana snatched her hand back before it could be smacked. 

The cat’s temper grew increasingly foul as the day progressed. Though it originally butted the Inquisitor’s hand for strokes, it now only gave a single, half-hearted buzz of a purr when rubbed. The Inquisitor’s back was chilled by its lashing tail.

Though it seemed to get a kick out of teasing Cassandra with opportunities to pet it. Finally she relented with a huff as the cat looked at her from its place, curled around the Inquisitor’s boot.

~ 

The cat followed the Inquisitor into his quarters that night, and would not be chased out again. The Inquisitor eventually gave up, and settled down to bed, trying to ignore the sound of the animal ungracefully weaving through obstacles on the desk. He heard some kind of container drop the floor, the sound of paper beneath light paws, the scritch of claws.

He dimly felt, in the night, the beast walking across his back, purring as it went. The Inquisitor shook his head at the animal’s simple pleasure, smiling, and enjoyed the pressure of its paws. 

In the morning, he woke with a warm little furry body curled up by his neck, and a piece of paper covered in ink and teeth punctures on his chest.

_IT IS I, DORIAN, THE MAGE, THE CAT, THE ‘MAGISTER’, AND I’VE HAD MY FILL OF THIS ADVENTURE, THANKS VERY MUCH. REQUEST YOU FIX IT, POST-HASTE._

Grammar. Sarcasm. Inky paw prints. 

The Inquisitor looked at the cat, who watched him in return, purring fiercely against his neck, and was momentarily speechless. 

The only thing he could think to say was, “Why didn’t you say?”

Dorian scratched him.


End file.
